Never Work For Strangers
by Dazzling Mage
Summary: Caught at the wrong place at the wrong time, Miho must pay for the 'crime' at Urahara Shoten. Too bad that her sanity may also be at stake...
1. The Deed

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. It belongs to Kubo-sensei.

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**Chapter 1**

**The Deed**

"Excellent!"

Miho fought the rising bile in her throat as snickering responded to that malicious tone. Once again she wondered what she was doing here when she could be safely revising her essay due at the end of the week. Around her, teens her age exchanged excited, knowing looks, the mischief gleaming in their eyes at what they were about to initiate. Miho tried to catch the attention of the only other girl in this group of misfits; but her friend Fumiko had no eyes but for the hearts shining at the center of the group. Miho stifled a defeated sigh.

The gang consisted of two mean looking thugs, and two lanky boys, whom Miho couldn't bother remembering their names. Miho and Fumiko were the only girls permitted within range of this gang that was gathered by the one person that attracted everyone's attention, including Fumiko's, at that moment; Shige.

For the life of her, Miho could never understand what all these people saw in Shige. She sided with her teachers when they commented on his lack of motivation. He also had no creativity at all to be dressed like a cliché gang leader; the black leather jacket and pants, silver skull print on a black t-shirt, and the spiked collar he keeps fingering frequently. There's no denying that this made him look attractive with his pale skin dotted with orange freckles, which was currently hidden with face powder (a secret Miho was sworn not to spread), and his ink black hair, also spiked. Sickly looking, yet still attractive. Or at least, in Fumiko's eyes.

Right now he was squatting at the center of the huddled gang, or they tried to. It was difficult when they all tried to occupy one side of a wall in an intersecting street. Shige grinned at the object in his hand before leaning around the corner, a movement everyone mimicked simultaneously. Miho rolled her eyes before slowly following their lead, and her heart sank. A little store could be seen from their angle, all wood and small in size, with a white sign on top with the words "Urahara Shoten" painted on it. The proximity around the shop was fairly deserted, and it was easy to predict that no one would be passing by any time soon.

Miho stepped back, chewing her lips nervously. She should definitely be home right now. Not trapped here to see others getting hurt.

"Let's not do this." There. It was out, and she felt slightly better. But the feeling vanished as angry stares stabbed her very being.

"Excuse me?" Shige stood up, his form saying all the words instead of his mouth: "I dare you to say that again."

"Well, I think this is really pointless," explained Miho calmly, hoping rationality would prevail today and send her home victorious. "Why are we having fun on account of others being victims? Let's go to the arcade, I bet it's still open."

At this, there were several snorts from the boys. "Miho, stop this!" Fumiko hissed, and glanced apologetically at Shige. The punk wannabe was glaring at both of them equally before fixing it on Fumiko. "I thought you said she'd be a good addition to the group."

"She is! Don't worry about it Shige, Miho's just wigging out, that's all. She won't be trouble at all," Fumiko emphasized this with a hard, angry look. Miho pointedly rolled her eyes, but Shige didn't pay attention to the girls' silent battle. Instead he focused on the white baseball in his hand. It was unusual; a cut was carved on it, making a flap through the ball. Inside, Miho knew, it was stuffed with fire crackers enough to make the ball explode, the flying rubber would probably injure the owners of the little store.

"Hey, pass me the lighter."

The group froze, then one of the burly boys fumbled in his pocket and presented Shige with a lighter. Pulling the flap backwards, Shige casually lit the fire-crackers inside. Then, with great agility, he ran around the corner and tossed the fire bomb. It flew over the street and bounced off one of the store's windows, and innocently fell on the ground.

Now everyone was quiet. Holding her breath, Miho prayed that this would end with a hole at the shop's exterior wall and no physical injuries. In front of her, two of the boys sniggered and high-fived each other. "Man, that extra surprise is _sweet_."

Panic broke loose in her insides. "What surprise?" She asked. The two boys gave her a look before ignoring her completely, which did nothing to quell her fear and anxiety. "What did you do to that ball?!"

"Chill," sneered one of the lanky ones- Hide?- she wasn't sure. "You'll find out soon."

"Shh, here comes the bait!"

Light headed with fear, she shoved herself back into the group for a better look. A small girl was examining the ball before she knelt down and picked it up. "Oh no," Miho moaned, but it was drowned by the general secretive laughter. She pulled back from the scene. She should ditch this plan, what was she doing, inventing destructive toys for fun?

_But that girl is going to get hurt!_

Miho winced at the thought. If the ball was left alone, she wouldn't be in this situation. If the ball hadn't been tampered with…

"NO!" Miho wrenched herself from her spot, shoved past the teens, and ran to the girl, ignoring the curses and calls behind her. The girl looked up in surprise at Miho's quick sprint towards her. "Um…"

She wasn't even given a chance before Miho snatched it from her. She panted, "I'm sorry." The ball seemed to burn in her hand from the heat, and she suddenly began hearing the sound of a ticking clock in her head. The girl looked up at her, wide-eyed, but neutral. Miho pushed away the unnerving image and repeated, "I'm sorry, but this ball is-"

"MINE!"

With surprising force, Miho's whole arm was tugged forward, making her gasp sharply. Strong hands belonging to a red headed boy was clawing and gripping at her enclosed fingers.

"No it isn't!" She yelled. "You don't know what-"

"I know a thief when I see one!" growled the boy. He darted a fist, barely missing her face.

"Hey!"

He smirked. Both wrestled over it for what Miho felt like hours, but knew was much shorted span of time. The ticking in her head was now a buzz of panic and fear. With whatever strength left, she tried again pulling away. At the same time the boy swatted it sharply with his free hand. To Miho's horror, the ball flew from her fingers, and high above their heads. "Shit!"

Both tried reaching for it, until they noticed the grey wisps of smoke. Miho recoiled, and screamed at the two kids (she was mildly surprised to see the girl still there), "Duck!!"

A loud crack burst through the air like a warning cutting her short, followed by louder sounds of pops and explosively loud cracks. The air around them was dense with grey smoke. Miho rubbed at her watering eyes, trying to get a glimpse at the flying bomb. The ball was propelled to all directions from the fire crackers. It whizzed all over the place, and for a second, Miho thought she saw something sputtering out of it. Yelling was heard all around her, unrecognized but for the tone of surprise.

Before she could blink and take another look, the ball was heading right at her. Recognizing the danger she's in, Miho jumped up, and started running the other direction through the thick haze of smoke. She cried in surprise and pain when she smacked into hard, solid wood, knocking her completely on her back. Her eyes were still wide open, and her upside-down view did nothing to deter the fact that the ball was still heading her way- fast. It pounded the dirt, right beside her face. She let out a strangled shriek, the air and dust suffocating her and something hot running all over her face.

_This_ _is it! I'm deformed! I've turned into the ugly duckling!_

Ironically, that was her favorite fairytale. Then the ball flew above her again. Shattered glass filled the air, then silence. Everything was still, and as the grey cloud started clearing up, Miho spotted the two children, slightly blackened on the cheeks but otherwise unharmed. She tried moving her own limbs, slowly supporting herself with her elbows, and shaking away the pieces of glass lightly embedded at the bottom of her pants. Miho winced as she fingered tips of her singed hair; the smell was terrible.

Ahead of her, there was a gaping, ragged whole through the shop's window. There was much running and popping noises inside.

Both kids slowly stood up, and the girl ran back inside, looking oddly distressed for the first time. The boy only shrugged and said, "Guess it wasn't mine after all." Miho gaped as he retreated inside as well.

"What did you think you were doing?!"

She turned to see Fumiko glaring at her. Around her, the gang were whooping, pointing at Miho and laughing. Only Shige was composed but for the evilly smug smirk on his face. Miho took comfort that, at least Fumiko wasn't joining in, but continued glaring. "You should have just _stayed_."

Suddenly, Miho had had enough. She was sick of being dragged around. She was tired of playing this useless game. She was going to say at least this much to Fumiko and leave her until she regains her lost senses. Before she even opened her mouth, however, a shriek interrupted: "MIHO! WHAT ON EARTH IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!"

The whooping died into yelps, and the gang fled the premises. Miho's own blood froze in her vessels when she recognized who it was. Her mother, the very image of death, doom and torture stood some down the once isolated street, making Miho back away unconsciously before bumping into a solid figure. She looked up at the looming figure of a very intimidating man, staring down at her intently through fogged glasses. Suddenly feeling the gravity of the situation she's in, Miho gulped.

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Well, I never thought I would start a Bleach fic, but here it is! Reviews please! Hopefully, second chapter will be coming soon (in websites near you!). Criticisms are welcome.


	2. The Punishment:I

To those who reviewed and were waiting, thank you SO much! Also, there's an excuse waiting at the end of this page.

**Disclaimer**: Bleach is not owned by me. But all the unfamiliar characters are.

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**Chapter 2**

**The Punishment: I**

"And you can forget attending that concert you've begged to go to all summer! I can't believe… I trusted that you would at least… No ice cream sundaes either-"

"Mom, I'm not five years old for you to deprive me of ice cream."

The annoyed look was totally lost on Miho, before her mother continued prohibiting more rights. They were in the Noboru kitchen; her mother frantically wiping the counter top, her father sitting at the table with a newspaper obscuring his face, and Miho across from him, cheek pressed on the cool, wooden table. Unfortunately, it wasn't cool enough to diminish the rage she felt. From time to time, her eyes hovered over to the phone hooked on the wall. It hasn't rung since they got home, and that was a good two hours ago.

Miho growled inwardly.

"And you're not allowed to visit Fumiko until-"

"I won't!" Miho cut in vehemently, finally extracting her cheek from the table. Her mother faltered, and even her father peaked over the paper. "Going over to Juro Fumiko's house is the last thing I'll ever think of doing," Miho continued, glaring viciously at the phone, as if it was Fumiko herself. _And I hope she rots along with that slime, Shige._

When it was obvious that nothing else would be said, her mother cleared her throat, and her father went back to the paper. She deposited the rag in a laundry basket, walked out of the kitchen, and came back with a towel and scissors.

"Sit straight, Miho."

Miho did as she was told, and her mother draped the towel around her. She ran delicate fingers through her hair, then fingering the crisped ends. "It's a good thing you had it in a ponytail, otherwise the damage could have been worse," her mother commented. She then started snipping at the burned tips of brown hair.

Her father quietly put down the paper, and asked, "So, how did the owner react?"

Miho just shrugged, but her mother was the one who offered the details. "Oh, he was obviously angry! But he hid it well, and brushed it off as an 'accident'."

"No. He wasn't angry-"

"Because he was such a gentleman!"

"I don't know where you got that idea from," muttered Miho. She was rewarded by a sharp tug from her roots.

"You should be thankful, Miho," chided Mrs. Noboru. "It was a miracle that he didn't involve the police. All you got out of it is paying him back by working for the damage you caused."

"Ah," said Mr. Noboru, sounding pleased. "So no actual payments needed. A gentleman, eh…" And with that, he buried his face in the newspaper.

Miho snorted. "More like a creep. Who walks around wearing _that_- OW!"

"Don't talk badly about people," said Mrs. Noboru angrily. "You never know. The young man may be an eccentric."

"I don't think eccentric young men even think about walking around with a cane," Miho retorted. "And that advice shouldn't be given out so carelessly after complaining about the old woman next door and her hygiene problems."

Mrs. Noboru blushed. Instead of pulling on Miho's hair, in a swift movement, she flapped the towel away, scattering tiny hairs all over the floor. "You're cleaning that up."

Miho rolled her eyes before getting to work.

"And try washing your face with a sponge this time," her father said behind his paper. Miho winced as she touched her face again. White paint. That was the surprise that boy was talking about. While part of her was relieved that it wasn't something serious, the other part was down right pissed at the mark on her face. By the time she found out, her anger was already centered on Fumiko.

As she threw away the last remnants of hair into the trash, her mother cleared her throat again. "I know I already grounded you from going anywhere, but…Fumiko hasn't been around for a while."

Miho almost let out a humorless laugh. _Way to being subtle!_ "Yeah. She's been busy." _Like throwing away her future for a slime ball._ Miho hastily put away the broom, and tried to make it out the door, but it was too late.

"Miho, is something wrong between-"

"No Mom," she interjected coolly. "Everything is _fine_."

The last thing she needed was to pull her mother in and fix her problems. Problems that didn't even concern Miho, but she's smack in the middle of it. She heard her mother call after her as she ran up the stairs, "Don't forget Miho! You're first day on the job starts tomorrow."

_Thud-up_

"WHAT?!"

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I apologize profusely for the late (and short?) update. Uni has been driving up the wall, and for a time, I hated the sight of Microsoft Word-- but that's another story. The next chapter is done, but is in the editing phase, so that's soon to be uploaded too. And please, please review!


	3. The Punishment:II

First, I'd like to thank the reviewers, and all the readers who silently passed through this story. The emails made my day, and also pressured me to work on the next chapter (which, I admit, wasn't fast enough). So thank you for both the encouragement and the pressure! You guys rock!

Second, this is probably the last chapter I'll submit without using a Beta Reader. Hopefully, the next will have less errors (though I've combed through this chapter many times, but I know there's are tiny ones, as always). So any volunteers will be a welcome. =)

Again, I'd like to stress how much you reviewers rock. On with the story!

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**Disclaimer**: Bleach is not owned by me.

Chapter 3

**The Punishment: II**

Next morning found Miho at the threshold of Urahara Shoten, eyes downcast and wishing the ground would suck her in completely.

"Ah! If it isn't our delinquent from yesterday!" The airy comment was a stab at her dignity. She almost flinched.

Urahara Kisuke, owner of the Urahara Shoten, eyed her with amusement. He was a shady man—literally. The fan in his hand covered most of his face, and his eyes were shaded by the striped fishing hat. It was impossible to guess what was on his mind. Already he seemed to be summing up something about her with his eyes, formulas only he knew. It made her uncomfortable.

He closed his fan with a snap, revealing a smile that reminded Miho of the Cheshire cat in the story Alice in Wonderland.

"Well, come in, come in!" And he retreated into the shop. Miho took a deep breath, and exhaled it before following him inside. It was different from other convenient stores she's been to. Instead of the usual ground level, the store had an elevated step—a veranda—that displayed the racks of products. Three figures also stood near by.

"Ah, let's start the introductions shall we? You already know Ururu and Jinta, of course."

Miho nodded at the two children, and an attempted smile faltered when the only response was a deep scowl on the boy's face, and the same eerily expressionless face on the girl.

"And that is Tessai. He's the one who caught you in the act," he informed her, practically enjoying the waves of discomfort and unease that shot through her. "Everyone! This is…"

Suddenly, he leaned towards her, invading her personal bubble, and taking her completely by surprise. She had to bend slightly backwards. "Your name?"

His fan almost touched her nose. That was how close he was. Miho suspected that he was smirking behind it. "Um, Noboru Miho."

Just as abruptly, he straightened up, taking away the invading aura that was stifling her. He spread his arms and announced, as if to a circus audience: "Mi-chan!"

"No, it's-"

"Please take care of her during the three months of her punishment."

"Three months?!" She spluttered. That's not what her mother told her. Now that she thought about it, her mother hadn't specified how long this punishment was supposed to last. Urahara fixed her with a keen look, and slowly bent down to her level, making her take a few steps backward until her back bumped into one of racks.

"You know Mi-chan, the damage that was done yesterday is not a light one." With his fan, he pointed at the broken window, and then at the corner of the veranda. There was a hole, the size of the very baseball that caused it; the edge of the wooden circle was burnt crisp, and there were flecks of soot and white paint sprayed around.

She turned her eyes elsewhere, feeling ashamed of just standing there. The hole was still burning her eyes. Somewhere inside her, a ball of anger mingled with guilt, but she pushed it down.

"I'm sorry," she managed softly.

For a moment no one said a word, and she wondered if her apology was accepted.

"Well, it can't be helped now. We still have to employ you Mi-chan." He might as well twist a few of her fingers.

Tessai cleared his throat. "Boss, why not have her take care of _that room_."

The emphasis made Miho shudder.

"Yeees~, _that room_," Urahara echoed in consideration.

She glanced nervously from one man to the other. She wondered if she should ask, but thought better of it. There was a long, agonizing pause, before Urahara twirled around to lead the way further into the store. Without waiting for a gesture, Miho followed, with Tessai behind her. The two kids were left behind, still motionless and scowling.

They passed a couple of sliding doors, and Miho wondered at the extra rooms. Why would a convenient store need this many rooms? She also noticed that hallways were narrow, with a lot of turns; surprisingly too many. The exterior appearance of the store gave it the impression of being small. It certainly wouldn't have this much space inside. _The hallways are narrow_, Miho explained to herself. _That's why_. But still, something didn't quite feel right.

No one said a word to her as they walked, and the silence filled her insides with dread. So she was startled when Urahara spoke at last. "Here we are." He came to a stop in front of a room; the first room with an actual door on hinges. "Now, we don't usually allow people in here because of the fragility of the products, but we've been…" Urahara lingered for a moment, "busy." Miho guessed that she's been given the summarized version.

The entrance was so narrow that only one person could enter at a time. Urahara swung the door open, and there was a sudden swirl of dust and chilling air. The first thing Miho noticed as her eyes got used to the weak, flickering florescent lights, was that the room was cramped with towering boxes, and some strewn every other way. There wasn't a lot of space to move around, and a thick sheet of dirt and dust settled on the boxes. Miho spotted a spider crawling away at the corner of the room. Her mother might have passed out at the sight of this mess.

"Your task is fairly simple," Urahara continued. "Just clean up, and separate the boxes."

Miho eyed the dust-encrusted boxes with disgust.

"You'll find that there are boxes marked with an 'x'. Those I'd like you to put in one corner of the room. The ones that aren't marked, on another corner, and the empty boxes thrown out," Urahara explained. Then, with another abrupt bow to meet her eye that startled her, he asked, "Are you a curious person, Mi-chan?"

"Um," she tried to recover from her shock, but found herself still unnerved that she couldn't maintain eye-contact with the man. _Damn that hat of his!_

"I don't think so."

"Good!" Miho expected him to back off, but he was still looking at her. She also realized that his tone wasn't its usual high-perkiness. "Because, Mi-chan, it would be really problematic if any of these boxes were opened." His tone was grave, almost cold, a trait Miho thought this man was incapable of. In fact, his whole body seemed to emit that cold attitude; from his rigid crouching, not moving a single muscle, as if holding Miho under a spell. Even his eyes were glowing slightly under the shade of his hat, a dangerously cool color. "You understand me?"

Miho did not understand, but she nodded vigorously. It was only when he straightened up at last that she was aware of her heart beating at a rapid pace, and that her hands, which she unconsciously clenched into a fist, felt clammy with cold sweat. A numb thought processed in her mind: This man was dangerous.

"Good!" He said this in his cheerful manner again. "I'll leave you to your task then."

Before she knew it, she was shoved into the room, along with a bucket of water, a mop, a ragged cloth and a broom. The door swung shut before she could see who passed her the items, and she was alone at last in the filth filled room. Miho glanced around the room, sighed, and set to work.

She was squeamish at first; the amount of dust in the room was unbelievable. She wondered how long it was left in this state. She also wondered if the two kids were related to Urahara somehow. But one thought prevailed all else. Why did the owner just threaten her.

Miho was sure that was his objective. Was it to hide his identity? As a drug-dealer? It seemed unlikely, but it definitely explained why he looks high most of the time. So what was so important in these boxes and packages?

When it came to the boxes, Miho was afraid to touch them. She prodded them with the tip of the broom to check if it was sealed with its products (she always tensed when it was), or empty.

She handled the sealed boxes with great care, mostly out of fear. What would he do to her if she messed up? He was tall. He seemed strong. She didn't want to dwell on it, but he was also handsome. He seemed younger than her father, but she wasn't sure. He seemed to have a genial side for show, and if it weren't for that, she wouldn't know if she could bear it. Still, she needs a strategy to keep from getting into trouble with the bunch.

_Easy, be distant, detached and follow the instructions._

Satisfied with that, she felt her mood lifting. She began humming as she worked. Already the sorting of the empty boxes presented more space in the room. Two columns of boxed products were neatly stacked, and one empty corner for the rest. Then, there's the cleaning bit, she thought, but dismissed it for when her current task was over. She heaved a box off the ground; this one was particularly heavy. Carefully, she moved to place it in its corner.

Suddenly, a loud bang echoed in the small room. Miho was startled, and her reflexes were to drop the load she had, and turn around.

But survival instincts kicked in. There was no other way to explain how her fingers remembered to clutched the box. Her arms tightened around it in an effort to balance it in her arms. It was still heavy though, and the defenses brought Miho down, hard on her knees. And that's how she remained, panting. Slowly, she angled herself to the door.

Nothing was amiss. No one was there, and the door was still shut. Aside from her distracted humming, it was relatively quiet when Miho was working. It still was. Miho steadied her breath, and strained to hear any sound from outside.

Nothing.

She waited a few minutes more, then shrugged, and carefully got up to resume her work. It was when she started mopping the floor that she noticed the change of temperature. Goosebumps ran along her arms, and she stopped to rub some warmth into her arms. She was about to mop again, but froze as something caught her attention.

At first, Miho thought she was imagining it. But after a while, she saw it again- the faint breath that misted when she exhaled. Faint, but there. Immediately, she dropped the mop, and strode over to the only exit. The door wouldn't budge open, no matter how much she twisted the handle. She drove her shoulder in it, but that proved to be painful.

Miho stepped back, took a deep breath. It unnerved her that what she exhaled was becoming clearer. And it was getting colder. She rapped on the door with a closed fist. "Hey! Could anyone open this door?"

There was no reply.

"I think I'm trapped in here!" Was this room so sound proof, that no one heard her yelling?

She put her ear to the door. Nothing but dreadful silence.

And it was silence that let chaos take over her mind, along with her fists.

**

Two and a half hours later found Miho bundled up in blankets, staring at a steaming cup of tea on the table. The owner sat across from her, and she thought she saw a look of amusement. But he was staring at her, and she didn't want to meet his gaze.

At length, he broke the silence. "Are you feeling better Mi-chan?"

Part of her wanted to believe that she couldn't respond to him because of that stupid nickname, but the pathetic truth was that she was still shivering convulsively. She reached for her cup, holding it carefully with her shaking, swollen hands. She could hardly feel the pain in her knuckles.

"I'm fine," she said. She sipped the tea, and winced. "This tea—"

"You need to warm up Mi-chan," said Urahara gently.

She wished he wouldn't stare at her so intently.

They were in a small room, and in the corner of it sat the two children. It was Ururu who found her, and dragged her out. Miho couldn't think it at the time, but it was the first frantic action she'd ever seen in the girl. Through the whirlwind of blankets and tea, she heard snippets of conversation. How she was trapped in the storage. How someone else turned the cooler on while she was in there.

The door slid open, and Tessai quietly walked in, placed a plate of biscuits before seating himself beside Urahara. Miho eyed the biscuits, noting its green hue, and as much as she wanted to wash away the bitterness in her mouth, decided not to touch them.

There were some minutes of silence before Urahara lowered his fan. The bland look on his face guarded his thoughts well. Miho felt another shiver strike through her body.

"Mi-chan, do you remember who locked you in?" he asked. She could sense the gravity back in his voice, pressing against her. It was the man who meant serious business.

She shivered uncontrollably. She sipped her tea, and the warm liquid felt heavenly this time round. "No," she said hoarsely. "I didn't see anyone." Which was true. Her initial theory was that the door was jammed. But the serious look on Urahara's face as he mulled over her answer told her otherwise.

A scoff sounded at the corner of the room. "So the new girl locked herself in. Big deal!"

"Jinta…" Ururu murmured, but the boy was already walking towards the door. "If she's going to cause this much trouble, she should just go home."

No one stopped him as he flung the door open and stepped out. And just as he slid it shut with a force that made it rattle, Miho thought of two things; first, she was sorry for Jinta. Second, she wondered how the culprit could be so stupid. Because the narrowing look on Urahara's face promised bad, bad consequences.

She shuddered again.

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As usual, criticism and reviews are a welcoming joy.


	4. The Impasse

Chapter 4:

**Impasse**

It was eerily quiet in the hallways of Karakura Model School. Sure, the occasional voices of teachers and students drifted from classrooms, but otherwise, no one else was out. Miho counted this as a lucky thing. She turned on the tap water, and washed her hands, wincing lightly when cold water touched her knuckles. The skin was red, raw. It ached whenever she clinched her right hand, which she luckily didn't need to do that much.

She let out a deep sigh that echoed across the stalls. Finally, she could think in this silence. Almost always, it would be at home, but all she had time for these days was passing out in bed after her work. Lightly, she sprinkled water from her hands, then dried it with her floral handkerchief. Work? Or punishment, depending on how she saw it.

Work was supposed to be self-satisfying, filled with worthy experiences. All she'd experienced so far was avoiding young mischievous little boys that lock people into storerooms and clinging to the higher-ups. And to never, ever enter said storerooms on ones own ever again. There was also avoiding certain foods served by Tessai, but that's still a tentative lesson. The encounter of suspiciously hued buiscuits haven't made a second appearance, but she couldn't rule that out yet.

Miho leaned against the sink and sighed again. Just thinking about it all brought back the anger and frustration. It was useless, of course, to just blame it on Fumiko and Shige. She was there too, stupidly indulging them. Stupidly indulging Fumiko. What was she thinking exactly? When Fumiko told her about the deserted shoten, why had she agreed? She couldn't even think to ask if people _worked _there, much less lived that building.

Miho wasn't the sort of person to get herself into such messes. Then again, Fumiko wasn't either. It all boiled down to Shige. _The creep._

She pulled out bandages from her skirt pocket and started winding it around her knuckles. It was better to lie low with this injury. Aside from her boss and assistant, her parents were the only other people who know about this. Of course, she made the explanation more digestible by calling it an accident. The last thing Miho wanted was to flush down what was left of her pride.

As if the universe did not slap her with enough disappointments these past few days, the bathroom door swung open and Fumiko walked in.

The surprise was unsettling, both bristling at the sight of the other, but only for a moment. Fumiko straightened up and smoothly walked to the sink furthest from Miho's. Miho turned and made as if to wash her left hand, hiding the bandaged one into her sleeve, suppressing angry words. The silence hung over them longer than Miho imagined.

Uncreased beige uniform. Check.

No zit or pimples. Check.

Reapplying lip gloss (for Fumiko at least). Check.

It was like a wordless language, and they've reached the end of their exchange. Miho was already headed towards the door, when, finally, Fumiko spoke.

"I like what you did to your hair."

Miho blinked, then turned towards her. Not exactly what she expected, given the circumstances that lead to the haircut. What used to be a plain ponytail now hung freely around her shoulders. Her hair is too straight for anything else, but now, there's barely any long strands to tie behind her head. Miho couldn't decide if it was an annoying or refreshing change amid the crazy consequences.

"Thanks," she replied lamely.

"I told you short hair looks good on you," Fumiko continued. "Did the mom mind?"

It was almost familiar, this banter.

"The mom did it herself," gloated Miho, grinning at Fumiko's stunned, wide-eyed look.

"Not bad. Still not thinking of opening a salon?"

"Nah. Better keep her skills to ourselves," Miho winked. It was the newest of stupid conversations to join the rest of the stupid conversations they'd had. But the familiarity almost made her forgot the wedge between them.

"We should go shopping for a new look now."

Miho made a face. "I think a new hairdo is enough."

Fumiko walked over to her and placed an arm around her shoulder. "Honey, the hairdo is the start of a wonderful makeover. "

They walked together out of the bathroom, and it seemed to Miho that there's a hum of happiness around her. This is how it should be. This is how it used to be.

"Maybe we can go after the meeting with Shige."

And just like that, the hum was stifled and the wedge between them reopened. Miho froze with dread and disbelief. Fumiko glanced at her in confusion, as if she couldn't understand her hesitation. "You don't have to worry about him being angry. He was in a really good mood over the baseball trick. The escape plan needed a little tweeking, but hey, we're not all perfect."

Now it was Miho's turn look confused, before it dawned on her that Fumiko mistook her expression for fear. Of… Shige. The thought almost made her snort, but she couldn't bring herself to do that. Everything inside her was numbed down, and something cold moved in the pit of her stomach.

"I can't believe you're still in to this…crap," Miho said stiffly.

Another puzzled look from Fumiko.

"Fumi, I was caught. I had to take responsibility for the damage," she said. It was a miracle she could say this much without shaking the girl and yelling at the top of her lungs.

"Well, everything worked out fine, didn't it?"

She thought her insides couldn't get colder than it already had, but she was wrong. "If you called, Fumi, you'd have known that, no, it didn't work out fine, because now I have to make up for that by working at the shoten," Miho said curtly, and walked passed Fumiko.

She hoped to top this dramatic expose by diving into class and leaving Fumiko in a state of indecisive suffering. Then she'd know who her best friend is. Unfortunately for Miho, timing was forever against her. Fumiko caught up and grabbed her arm. "Look, I don't understand what the big deal is!"

"The deal?" Hissed Miho. "The deal is that because of your... your infatuation with that loser, I have to be dragged in. And I helped him make that...that bomb just so he can destroy properties."

Miho shook Fumiko's hand off her arm, and hissed some more. "Someone could have gotten hurt, Fumi. There were _kids_ in there."

Fumiko rolled her eyes. "God, you don't have to be serious! It was just for fun. And you should have just stuck by us." Miho gaped, and before she could recover, the other girl said airily "You could just ditch the work if you're that annoyed by it."

_This is Fumiko_, her mind tried to process this. Some months ago, she would actually feel for certain causes. _She is your best friend. She is your rock_. And yet, everything about her now seemed foreign to Miho. She tried to make sense of this change; instead she felt the fight go right out of her.

"You just don't get it," she said breathlessly.

"Get what?" answered Fumiko, suddenly annoyed, defensive.

She took another breath. It was suddenly hard to speak. "Fumi… Shige isn't worth your attentions, and—wait, before you say anything, just let me say this. He won't be happy until he's hurt someone," she waited a second to let this sink in, then added, "Are you really going to stick around until that happens?"

Not waiting for an answer, Miho turned to go to class.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Finally! I know the updating is slow, but I've been in a writing slump, and it took me a while to catch up to my own story. Also, I feel like the writing style changed in this chapter. I don't know, something seems a bit off while I was writing this chapter. Ah well.

I also found that I'm bad at setting up clues, haha! I was pretty bummed that no one guessed that Jinta was the culprit. Then again, it all happened in my head so I should have just put it out there. Anyway, reviews and comments please! Thank you for those who did already! Made my days. =D


	5. The Violence

**Chapter 5: **

**The Violence**

That afternoon, Miho poured all her frustration into sweeping the porch thoroughly. So thoroughly, she didn't notice the swirls of heavy dust until she heard someone clear his throat.

"My, Mi-chan, you're quite the energetic young lady today."

Through the thick haze, she could just make out the outline of a very tall, very relaxed man. She could imagine those shaded eyes and the fan concealing his smirk. Why he bothered to do that when he enjoys laughing at people, Miho hopes she never finds out.

"I—I'm sorry." She hated stuttering. "Bad day," she said, then pursed her lips. _Stupid!_ That was too much information, even if it were two words. Professionalism, that's what she needs to get her through this. That, and avoid a certain red headed kid. She hadn't bumped into Jinta yet.

The dusty haze slowly cleared out, and sure enough, there was his bemused face. He walked to the low table, and made himself comfortable on the matt.

"Your fellow band of hooligans aren't brain washing you, are they?"

_Professionalism be damned_, she thought indignantly. "No. What made you think that?" It was a flippant remark, but it stung. Wasn't she owning up to her mistakes and more?

He regarded her thoughtfully, then gestured to her right hand with a nod. "How's your injury?"

Miho was surprised that he noticed her bandaged knuckles. "It's okay," she said. "I should probably avoid knocking on doors though."

It was her dad's joke, but it lightened up the mood a little.

"Good!" He declared. "Because, Mi-chan, there are many, many—" suddenly he was cut off by the snap of sliding doors hitting wood. A young schoolgirl stood at the entrance, and from the uniform, Miho could tell she was from Karakura High School.

_Customer_, thought Miho as she prepared to bow deeply. She didn't get the chance to. Because the tiny girl launched herself into the air, over Miho's head, with a foot stretched out, until her shoe connected to Urahara's chin. The midget then proceeded to carry out a chain of attacks on the older man with disturbing vehemence. Miho couldn't understand it at first, but somewhere in the recesses of her paralyzed mind, she thought Urahara was as good as dead. Because the girl was slapping his face around, and at some point, brought his whole face down on the table, breaking the wood into two perfect pieces.

"You LIAR!"

"Rukia-san please—"

Sickening punch.

"You said you installed the Chappy rabbit game! It doesn't even function correctly!"

Miho raced past the stunning commotion, yelling for Tessai. Half her mind wanted to run back home and never come back, but she couldn't.

"Stop it!" She screeched, and when she saw the tiny brunette went on bouncing her boss off walls, she screeched louder "_What do you think you're doing?_"

That's when the petite girl froze mid-punch and switched her attention to Miho. She looked surprised to see there was a spectator there are at all. She studied Miho, looked her up and down silently. _Please don't hurt me_, Miho prayed, already sweating.

Quickly seizing Urahara by the lapels of his robe the petite monster drew him close and whispered harshly, "you brought in a human girl?"

It was a weird question to ask, but Miho couldn't hear the rest of the exchange because another Kurakara High student walked in. "What a mess." He might as well have commented on the weather.

But he was right. The mess was irreparable. If this student is also a costumer (_please be a costumer_, she pleaded silently), she needed to take control of the situation. Expertly stumbling over the broken table, Miho bowed respectfully.

"Welcome to Urahara Shoten, how may I help you?"

The boy, very tall with bizarrely orange hair, gave her a puzzling look, as if she was the one that needed help.

"And you are—"

"Part time employee," she supplied quickly. _Come on, come on. Take something and leave! _

But the guy still took his time looking confused. What was wrong with these people?

"Ah, Ichigo-san! You came as well!" Miho almost deflated at the sound of Urahara's playful croak of a voice. He was patting his clothes, limbs still intact, and (Miho was especially impressed by this), seemingly uninjured. The petite girl stood next to him, scowling at her.

"Yo, sandal hat's, she with you?" The boy asked. The familiarity between them threw her off.

"Ahem. Yes, as I've explained to Rukia-san, it's a temporary set up."

The tiny girl, Rukia, stepped off the porch and walked briskly towards Miho, who went into instant momentary panic, and flinched when a hand shot out to grab hers and shook it heartily.

"So nice to meet you Mi-chan," Rukia said in a sickly sweet voice. She was all smiles and glittery roses. Miho had never been so scared in her life. Beside her, Ichigo rolled his eyes. "I sincerely apologize for marching in like this, but it was all a misunderstanding. I'm sure you understand."

Urahara had asked her that same thing when she began working for him and she wondered if she really did understand. For a smart girl like Miho, it was quite a blow to her intelligence. Yet, as her raw knuckles chafed at the contact, she secretly agreed it was better to not risk her life.

"Um, yes, I suppose."

"And this," continued Rukia innocently, "is my classmate, Kurosagi Ichigo."

Nods of awkward greets exchanged.

"So, now that we've settled the misunderstanding with Urahara-san, we should really be leaving."

Grabbing Ichigo's arm, she dragged him (another remarkable feat that day) out the door. "You take care Mi-chan! Bye!" With a wave, the pair was gone.

"Bye," Miho said faintly.

It was just then that Tessai peeked in, his tinted bespectacled gaze took in the damage, muttered something about a toolbox and peeked out. Urahara sighed heavily as he knelt by the broken table, obviously lamenting over the damange.

"Urahara-san," Miho said, her voice hoarse from screeching. She was breaking her rules by asking, but she had a nagging feeling that she had to try. "Who… were those people?"

When the boss didn't answer immediately she thought he hadn't heard, but then he let out a deep sigh and fanned himself lightly.

"Mi-chan, there are some things that are meant to stay—"

"Just like the boxes?" She cut in firmly, to his surprise. He stood back up, shot her a curious look, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Just like the boxes."

_Don't ask questions._ She nodded, calmly taking in that information in.

"Also, a word of caution, Mi-chan," he dawdled. "Don't panic when you meet the costumers. They are a bit… strange, but the profit is worth it."

His words fell like heavy rocks in the pit of her stomach. She imagined seeing more people like Rukia, and shuddered.

* * *

**Author's Note:** For the people who read and reviewed the chapters so far, I'd like to thank you from the bottom of my heart. You have no idea how much happiness I get from receiving those review notification emails. You are truly awesome.


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